Baby, It's Cold Outside
by Mouse and Stupid Productions
Summary: Percabeth fluff. Oneshot. Songfic. My fisrt PJatO story. Please don't flame me. But constructive criticism is nice! R&R!


**A/N: One shot. Also my first Percy Jackson and the Olympians story. Therefore, also my first Percabeth story. And also my first songfic. Wow, a lot of firsts. I realise this may be kinda OOC for them, especially give TLH, which I was reading, and then I wondered if there was a preview chapter at the end so I turned to it and saw the last sentence and am now mad at the book because apparently Percy isn't in it and I love him dearly. Oh, gods, sorry. I'm ranting. Who ever reads this, I'm sorry. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story. Nor do I own the song. **

This is a bad idea. I'll get sucked in, and people will talk, I'll fall asleep on the couch, I'll wake up in his bed, and then I'll try to sneak back to my cabin in the morning and I'll get caught and people will talk, make fun, laugh, tell Mr D, etc.

Like that's anything new.

I glanced around in the dark, making sure no one was peeking and dashed from my cabin across to his.

I knocked on the door. He answered, smiling brightly at me.

"Hi," he said, closing the door and taking my coat.

"Where's Tyson?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Forges?" he suggested, tossing my coat on his half-brother's bed. It was one of those rare winters where Mr D decided to let it snow on the camp. As such, it was freezing outside. Literally. This was New York in winter. It was 9 degrees Fahrenheit.

I shivered and sat in one of the overstuffed blue armchairs Percy had "procured" from the Stoll brothers. He didn't tell me the details of the two chairs arriving, but one day they were just there. He'd muttered something about payback and left it at that. The couch his mother had supplied him with. Tyson had built the fire pit. If I squinted, I could see Hestia winking at me. I looked away. He handed me a blue mug with something that looked like blue hot chocolate in it. I looked concerned and took a sip.

It was not hot chocolate.

It was heated, spiced, dyed blue and spiked eggnog.

"Percy Jackson, did you spike my drink?" I asked.

"Does it count as spiking if I did it to my own as well, Annabeth Chase?" he asked. I bit my lip and took another sip. It was quite delicious.

A few hours later found us curled up on the couch together, staring at the flames as a few old songs played from the fountain in the corner. I really should remember to thank his dad for the tunes.

Then I saw the clock. It was three in the morning.

"I've got to go," I said, standing up. He smiled at me. Well, it was more of a smirk. This was the game we played. I acted sensible and we still ended up in the same place anyways. But this time I was going to be good and actually leave.

"It's cold outside," he said, pulling me back onto the couch.

"Percy, I really have to go," I said. He smirked and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"It's really cold outside," he said in his persuasive voice. I won't look at him.

"This evening has been very nice," I said.

"I'd been hoping you'd drop in," he said. He grabbed my hand and flinched. "Your hands are like ice."

"Hestia will tell my mother," I said.

"Honey, what's your hurry? You've stayed over a million times," he said, still persuasive voice.

"Malcolm and the rest will be freaking out," I said, trying to pull out of his grasp. When I stood up, however, I made the mistake of looking at him. He was doing his best puppy dog look, and believe you me, he does it very well. I scrunched up my nose and sat back on the couch.

"Maybe just half a drink more," I said reluctantly. He bounded off the couch over to the mini kitchen Mr D didn't know about.

"Put some music on," he said. I sighed and did.

"I wish I knew how to break this spell you have on me," I said. "I ought to say no."

"Mind if I, uh, move closer?" he asked, sliding towards me on the couch anyways.

"At least I'm gonna say that I tried," I said. I drank more of the drink and set it down.

"I must go," I said.

"It's still cold," he said. I closed my eyes, attempting to find the will power in myself to say no. "I'll be cold all by myself without you."

"The answer is no," I said. I took a half-hearted step towards the door.

"Gosh your lips look delicious," he said, standing up as well, placing himself between me and the door. I can't say I minded too terribly.

"My sister will be suspicious," I said, crossing my arms. "Malcolm will be at the door." He smirked at me. He had me and he knew it. He kissed me.

"Gosh, your lips _are_ delicious," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist. I "reluctantly" put mine around his neck.

"Everyone will talk," I said.

"They already do," he said, smirking as we slow danced.

"I've got to go," I said.

"If you got pneumonia and die," he said, looking horror stricken. "I can't live without you, Annabeth Chase." I pretended to be disgusted.

"Of all the ploys to get a girl into your bed," I said, putting my hands on my hips. He looked skittish. Oh, gods, he'd meant that. "Er…you meant that, didn't you?" He nodded. I rubbed the back of my neck. "I love you too," I said, stepping closer to hug him. He held me tightly.

"You know, it is rather…frozen out there," I said.

"Quite cold," he agreed, smiling. I smiled back and kissed him. He handed me one of his old camp shirts. I put it on as he put on his pyjamas. I snuggled under the covers next to him.

"You know, I think you're the only guy who wants to sleep with me, but not _sleep_ with me," I said. He shrugged.

"You forgot to turn off the music," he said. I was about to get up to turn it off, when a familiar and eerily perfect song started playing.

"I'm not turning off this song," I said.

"Why?" he asked.

"Just listen."

* * *

**The song is "Baby, It's Cold Outside." **

**Read and review!**


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